


Steady. Solid. Strong.

by GoAskAllyse



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Admissions of Love, Aftermath of Violence, Drabble, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, more like spikey fluff, not quite fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 12:27:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14105364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoAskAllyse/pseuds/GoAskAllyse
Summary: The Forge was a terrible place, but two survivors-turned-warriors find comfort in each other over time.





	Steady. Solid. Strong.

The first time he laid an ear against Wes’s chest had been out of necessity. The younger man’s breathing had rattled and Wilson had been afraid something had gone wrong. The Forge was proving to be a terrible place, and though he had tried his damnedest he was convinced something had gone wrong in the healing process because of how uneasy Wes’s breathing had been. His eyes had been closed at the time and Wilson, still uncertain in new clothes and newer roles, had been so tentative to lay his head against the other man’s bare chest to take in the sounds there.

 

Wes’s breath rattled in his chest, shallow and quick and tight. Wilson’s mind raced, uncertain of what he could do, what resources they would let him have to help and how he would pitch this? If he didn’t heal they couldn’t fight- would it save him a day of torture or prolong suffering or-

 

Wilson remembered feeling the taller man’s hand on his head, pressing him close to his body and nestling his fingers in the scientist’s hair. He remembered his thoughts _(what if I hurt Wes? I can’t-)_ before his mind calmed enough to hear what was there. The mime’s heartbeat was steady. Solid. Strong. Though his breathing was uneasy, something about the other man’s heart was reassuring. The scientist smiled; the mime smiled back.

 

* * *

 

That week had been Hell. The crowds demanded more of them and had since grown tired of seeing the same few fighters over and over; Pugna had agreed- it was a little boring to watch a rehash of the same match when they truly craved novelty. The youngest of their lot could not be spared forever, no matter how the rest of the survivors protested.

 

Sleep offered no respite, and what played through Wilson’s head time and time again were his failures and misgivings. Thoughts of blood and screaming and so many tears. He couldn’t make it stop, not even in his dreams.

 

Wes, for his part, never really slept much here. Rest was caught in naps and quiet moments when things felt safe and since they were never _truly_ safe the rest was a foregone conclusion. Besides, being awake when everyone else was not gave him time to take in the moments of peace on all their faces- a moment that did not come to Wilson’s features. The smaller man had curled into a ball as he had dozens of times before and a pained whimper escaped his throat. Wes frowned, reaching forward and giving the scientist a little shake to coax him awake though it did no good.

 

Cautiously, as though worried of scaring him or scarring him or jarring him into some terrible place in his dreams, Wes carefully gathered Wilson into his lap and reclined against a nearby wall. As he had before, the taller man carefully nestled his fingers into the smaller’s hair and settled his ear against the place where his own heart rested.

 

Steady. Solid. Strong.

 

He stayed there until morning; both were reluctant to separate when they were called to action.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It had been that way every night after the first one. Wilson and Wes settled next to each other, only to find in the morning that the scientist had pressed his head against Wes’s chest at some point and settled into him. They woke up entangled every morning; for once, the scientist slept soundly, undaunted by the reminders of what had transpired again and again in this wretched place. For once, Wes felt safe enough to settle into legitimate sleep.

 

This place never let anything good last.

 

“Why didn’t you finish him?” Pugna growled.

Wes glowered at their overlord.

**“Answer. Me.”**

“He can’t, he doesn’t-“ Wilson started before taking a harsh blow to the stomach from one of the guards. The mime immediately tried to rush to his companion’s side, concern immediately blossoming across his face only to find his approach blocked by Battlemaster Pugna himself.

“You don’t fight, you don’t run, you don’t _scream_ -“ the monster hissed “-I think it’s time you learned there is a price for your defiance.”

 

Wilson shoved past the guards, grasping at Wes’s wrist in hopes of keeping him from being pulled away to God-knew where. There was a sharp pain against the back of his head; the world went black.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Wilson had woken up, he had been back with the rest of the survivors-turned-gladiators. It had been quiet around there and others were skiddish. Webber had all but glued himself to Wilson’s side and even Maxwell had been careful around him; they all waited on baited breath for what could happen to them next.

 

Days stretched on, until almost two weeks had passed.

 

It was night and everyone who was left was either being revived in some other location or asleep for the rest of the evening. Wilson, for his part, barely slept at all these days, tormented by the idea of what may be happening to the other man and the idea that he may never see him smile again or listen to the steady drumming of his heart against his ribs.

 

Doors opened, and the mime was half-shoved-half-thrown into the room. The doors shut just as quickly as they had opened.

 

Wilson scrambled to his feet and rushed to meet Wes; the taller man only stood for a moment before collapsing into the scientist’s arms. His body was limp and his skin cold, but Wilson could still hear his uneasy breathing. The far off, glassy look in his eyes was beyond troubling. Tears immediately came to his eyes, his whole body trembling under the enormity of what the predicament truly was. He carefully settled both of them onto the ground, cradling Wes close to him.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Wilson whispered, unable to bring his voice above that dull ache, “I couldn’t-“

 

The mime took one of Wilson’s hands, his grip weak but careful. He splayed his fingers out before pushing his middle and ring finger downward, leaving only his thumb, pinkie, and index finger pointed up. He smiled at the scientist, some sort of light poking through whatever damage had been done over the last two weeks.

 

“I love you, too,” Wilson smiled back.

 

The smaller man pulled the taller close to his chest, resting Wes’s ear against where his heart rested. And there was his heartbeat. Steady. Solid. Strong.

**Author's Note:**

> This was done as a request from a friend, and I figured I may as well post it on here! It's short, quick, and a little disjointed. I didn't actually get a chance to play through the forge content so all I have is some research and some hopes that I'm doing marginally okay with it? 
> 
> Let me know in the comments if you think I should work more on the gladiator babies and turn this into a full-fledged story and not snippets of scenes between battles!


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